


Cuz I've got issues ( You've got em' too.)

by superviolentfantasy



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superviolentfantasy/pseuds/superviolentfantasy
Summary: AU. Billy didn't die and Jane starts getting nightmares about the mind flayer and its victims. The most troubling part is the fact she's stripped of her powers and can't fight back the way she used to. Jane eventually decides to go to California where Max is and attend college with her. What she doesn't anticipate is running into Billy again. Bonding ensues.Or, Billy and Jane taking care of each other throughout their lives.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Billy Hargrove
Comments: 16
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All hate comments will be deleted so don't bother if you decide to be an asshole :)

In Jane's dream she is running.

Running from something trying to find a way out. There is nothing but her and the darkness that seems to stretch on forever. As far as the eye can see there is no imposing threat, no demogorgon or creature having crawled from the depths of the upside down that's come to hunt her down. And yet, there is still that dread, that anticipating of the air to close itself around her and block off all the exits. Like being buried alive, forever suspended between time and space and the horror of her own existence. She feels like a little girl all over again, running from monsters in the dark.perhaps

_Perhaps she is the darkness_.

There is always that instinct, that horrible foreboding that another body lives deep inside of her. Killing her slowly and breaking off her bones little by little in a slow intimate process.

It hates that she saw it. The mind flayer. She knows how its mind works just as much as it knows hers. She remembers touching it. Cold as ice, wet, raw and ugly like an open wound. She distinctly remembers the terrible emptiness emitting from it like she had taken something from it when they had made contact.

Now, when she looks back at it she can't help but wonder if they were both victims in this cruel scheme where corrupt men in positions of power were trying to gain some higher knowledge, some greater insight into what lay beyond our dimension and use them against each other in the process.

She would never say that she feels pity for it. Not after how much hurt it's caused. But there's some strange sense of understanding she can't shake when she stops to look at it outside her perspective for once.

All of a sudden, it feels like she's being dragged under. Like something is trying to swallow her up, calling her from the inky darkness and keeping her from resurfacing.

She wakes up in a cold sweat, shivering despite the layers of blankets surrounding her. It is another dreary wet-bone morning outside her window. The dark gloomy weather creating a more wintry feel, reminding her that summer is half over. She pushes out a foot from under the sheets but can't bring herself to connect with the floor at first.

" It's not real. It's not real." She keeps repeating it, like a mantra to herself when she finally sits upright on her bed. She has more energy than she knows what to do with and gets up to quickly do some sit-ups. It's little things like this she does that helps distract herself. Give her something else to focus on.

As she peers out into the hallway it seems as though she's the only one awake at the moment. The house is silent, the only sound being her feet padding across the wooden floor. She pauses to look at the array of pictures framed on the walls, one of her and Will beaming at the camera when they had graduated together. She can still remember spotting Joyce out from the crowd, her face red and emotional while Johnathan snapped picture after picture. She stares at another one of everyone gathered around her celebrating her sixteenth birthday. She'd been so insecure at the time, not wanting to eat the homemade chocolate cake Joyce had made because she was going through a bad case of acne.

Being a teenager was hard and challenging. While she did enjoy school and having a routine she never quite understood the drama and social pressure of it all. It got harder when puberty hit, when her chest was still flat while it seemed all the other girls grew into D-size cups overnight. She was always a good student though, working harder than others to keep up her grades.

It was hard to integrate herself with other people, being in a completely different environment than what she was used to. Up until her senior year she mainly clung to Will.

For awhile she didn't like herself. Didn’t like looking at herself in the mirror. The only thing she saw was her bad complexion and skinny boyish figure. In her eyes, she was never good enough. Not pretty enough.

Drawing was what helped pull her out of her rut.

Johanathan gave her a sketchbook one Christmas, it was beautiful when she opened it, bound with real leather skin and embellished with a tree on its cover, its branches twisting out like snakes, writhing upward. She thinks he must have caught onto her doodling so much on her notes whenever he had helped her with her homework. She loved that about him, that he was so observant and wanted to indulge her in her hobby. It felt personal. From the heart.

She carries her sketchbook wherever she goes now. It's a means of coping with the world around her, some people smoke, chew gum, bite their nails, she draws.

She's still wearing her pajamas, but pulls a chunky sweater over and gets her raincoat hanging from the coat rack. She slips on her boots and steps outside feeling the cold mist hit her skin.

She goes into the garage, gets her bike and rides down the gravel path onto 2517 Turry Lane, the same street she's known since moving here to Ohio. The town she lives in is nice, but so small it can hardly be called a town.

Her eyes focus on the pale blue house right across the corner where their neighbors the Jenkins used to live. A small rose garden had been planted out in front once, and although it had been carefully planned and loved it was now riddled with weeds.

A single mom and her kids had lived there, the daughter being the oldest around her and Will's age. Her name was Molly, blonde, fat, and whose breath always smelled of eggs.

She used to bully her, call her names and make petty mean comments about her appearance. Jane had never been bullied before, and didn't know how to take it. While her words did sting and affect her, it all just felt like a power fix.

It was awkward when Joyce made her tag along when going over to their place. She'd made them dinner and it was Molly who'd been the one to answer the door while holding her baby brother who was crying non-stop. Her mom had just come home from the office job that wasn't paying their rent enough. The woman appeared disheveled and exhausted but smiled nonetheless looking extremely thankful.

After that she began to look at her school bully a lot differently.

She learned that Molly's dad was having an affair with his secretary which eventually led to a deteriorating marriage and stressful home life.

It started to make sense, why she was so mean and why she ate so much, because it was the only way to ease the stress of what was going on at home.

It was stuff like that, that she had learned from her experience interacting with Billy. That sometimes those who were mean were just screaming out for help, hurting inside and taking it out on those around them.

There was still a bit of tension between them, but eventually and unexpectedly they became good friends. That, and it was nice to sit next to someone on the bus besides Will for a change. They had sleepovers and she even helped Molly babysit her siblings.

Unfortunately, they had moved away because of financial issues leaving Jane to graduate senior year without the only real friend she had made.

She passes by a white framed house, its dirty cream cracked paint worn down by age looking in need of a paint job. The massive shutters are always boarded up, even in the hot summer months. The grassy banks surrounding the front yard are a disheveled mess, moss and leaf litter clinging to the wet pavement. The trees on its side are overgrown giving the street a wild sort of woodland look.

A grumpy old man lives there who always looks at you like you took a piss in his Cheerios. The wrinkles on his face bore deeply into his skin, his expression always being of frustration and fatigue, like he'd had enough of the world. There's not much she knows about him even after all these years being his neighbor. She learned from Joyce that he'd lived in the same house in this area since it was built. His wife passed away a while ago and now it's just him. She's never seen him have grandchildren or any other family to come visit him.

She can't help but think he'll die with that intense anger ingrained into his features. And that's how he'll be remembered. Cold, miserable and alone.

She looks at him for a moment as he steps inside his front door after collecting the morning paper and he looks back at her in return.

He watches her and she watches back. It’s like this game they play. As if anticipating the other to make the first move.

She continues along her path, taking in her surroundings.

It’s this ritual she does when she’s still anxious after waking up from her nightmares. Riding her bike around her neighborhood until her nerves eventually calm down.

She finds that if she pedals hard enough she can outrun the voices. The silence, the chill of the leftover night air, the cold seeping into her skin jolts her awake. She’s soaked to the bone, her thin raincoat barely shielding her from the downpour. Still she keeps pedaling faster, the whisperings of her demons still fresh in her mind, until the shapes of trees, houses and cars start to blur and blend together. Her breath comes out in shaky puffs of air.

“ _You could’ve saved us_.” A voice cuts across the fog, barely above a whisper but she catches onto it. A deep feeling of self-loathing wells up in her.

" _All you care about is you and your stupid friends_!" Another one snaps, making her heart clench up even though she's heard it a dozen times. Even after all this time she still finds herself going through in her head what she could've done better to save everyone back in Hawkins.

The mind flayer had absorbed so many innocent souls when it had come for her then.

It's become a habit that she's fixated on. They say the past becomes the past, but not really. Not for her anyway.

She didn't know the extent of the mind flayer's plan until it was too late. She didn't realize how many other people would have to suffer.

That's what weighs most on her conscious.

" _I never got to tell my family goodbye_! _And it's all your fault_!" Jane suppresses a sob, it still gets to her. The fact that people will never really know what happened to their loved ones.

" _You're weak, you're nothing_! _That's what you'll always be! Nothing_!"

Jane doesn't fight the voice this time. Right now she definitely feels like nothing.

A moment passes and a dozen voices fill her head, wheezing and gasping for air, almost but not quite synchronized. Horrible sounds.

It's a phantom kind of evil. The kind that stays with you.

The figure of a young boy with a haunted expression suddenly appears in front of her and is going too fast to go around him. She goes right through him looking back and he's gone, vanishing into the fog.

" I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She yells, she must look insane. Screaming straight ahead at nothing. She balls her fists on either side of the gears and clenches her teeth tightly.

Soon the voices intermingle, blending together, the pressure building making her head spin and accidentally hits the side of a car coming to a sharp stop.

Her body pivots from the sudden motion automatically jerking her forward. All her fears come out tumbling unchecked by her brain, like she's in some mental free-fall. Her ears, start ringing from the impact and sees bright red eyes that flash in her direction. Her body trembles all over thinking it's the jaws of death, the mind flayer having come back to get its revenge and devour her whole. Split her skin and chew her up, and she'd be gone.

A shrill angry man’s voice answers instead.

“ Hey! Watch where you're going bitch! You trying to get run over or something?!”

Jane blinks when she finally catches herself, her mind going blank adjusting to reality again.

She's a mess, disheveled and out of breath.

There's a long gash cut across her left temple, from her hairline to her eyebrow. She can't tell if it's deep, the skin pulling and puckering when she brings her hand to touch it wincing in discomfort. Fresh blood drips across her cheeks, and it almost looks like tears.


	2. Chapter 2

When Billy Hargrove tells himself his day can't possibly get any worse he really hopes he hasn't managed to jinx himself in the process.

After the construction company he worked for got bought out he was left out in the streets, literally. Not having a steady job left him not having enough to pay for next month’s rent, and as a result was left with no other option than to sleep in his car.

These days he's been traveling around a lot cross-country, working multiple jobs and getting his hands dirty. Mostly grunt work. Ever since the events at StarCourt he's been trying to get himself as far away from Hawkins as possible. That hick bumfuck out of nowhere town only serves as a bitter memory now. Like a stain he can never scrub clean. Somehow it feels like he's constantly chasing something. Like if he stays in one place too long he starts to get claustrophobic in his own skin. Nowhere ever feels good enough.

He's at a point in life where he doesn't know what he wants. Where he sees himself ten years from now, hell he doesn't know where he sees himself a week from now. He was in Tucson barely a month ago for work before finding another gig in Seattle. Right now, the sound of wind and thunder thrash against his windows as he tries to get some sleep reclining in the front seat of his car. He's startled awake, cursing in pain as the pop of his neck sends waves of discomfort through his body. He looks out the window and frowns seeing that it's still raining cats and dogs.

He really misses the sun.

His scars itch. Those ugly jagged marks ingrained into his skin. They had been stinging and bright red years ago, now though they're shiny and pink. An odd looking mixture of bright white and light pink, the skin around them slightly discolored suggesting they never healed properly. Sometimes they ache like a ghostly echo of a knife from long ago. If he had the finances he could probably have surgery to lessen the scars, but he's not really concerned about that now.

It's funny, back then he used to be so obsessed with preserving his self-image, the big man on campus. The one who always wore the best clothes, scored the most points in all the sports, and dated the hottest chicks. High school in Hawkins was dull, but he made it his domain, where he felt important and in total control while leading a shitty life at home.

Now he just feels like a washed out version of himself, the remnants of the daring days of his youth. He's bundled up in a heavy jacket and he's still shivering. The only thing serving to him as some sort of comfort right now is the busted heater in his car that semi works if he tinkers with it enough, and a half empty bottle of liquor he'd forgotten about lying under his seat.

This is his life now.

His eyes momentarily close, lulled by the sound of rain before eventually drifting off.

**

His eyes snap back open, not questioning his reality too much suddenly finding himself wandering through some dense overgrowth in the middle of the woods. Ever since Hawkins he's been cursed with having bizzare vivid dreams. He probably has PTSD or some shit since recovering from the incident at Starcourt but was never properly diagnosed. While he was used as a literal meatsuit for that..thing. That dark shadow making him wreck havoc on Hawkins. He was never the same since then. It felt like he'd been torn apart, ripped to shreds, the pieces never quite fitting back together.

It's unnervingly cold. The cold is different here. Like all the warmth is sucked from the world.

He pauses for a moment to listen closely, there's no outside noise indicating any life whatsoever. Instead, the darkness seems to hum around him. As he keeps going deeper and deeper it feels like some heavy trance is compelling him to move forward. The dark abyss ahead of him beckoning him into its pulsing heartbeat.

This. This is something entirely different.

Through the treeline, the sky is blood red, a crippling coldness strangling the air. It feels like the quiet place of hell. Where lost souls go to wander around for eternity. There's a heavy sense of dread that weighs down on him here. Like he's cut off from everything.

He reaches the outermost edge spotting a cabin, concealed in the tree's massive vines, tucked away like its own private island.

He touches the back of his neck, a disquieting feeling of anticipation tugging at him as he continues forward towards it.

The silence slices through him, it's deafening, feeling it reverberate in his bones, sending a sinking sense of foreboding that fills his entire core. As he walks the distance towards the cabin he seems to approach it in almost no time even though he seems to remember it being further away.

He reaches the small patio and stops to look all around him. Paranoia sets in and he suddenly feels completely exposed out in the open. He usually never allows himself to get scared so easily, but a different breed of fear creeps up on him. Everything about this place feels wrong, like something is lurking in the shadows and could take him away at any given moment. He could be gone, ripped away and no one would ever know. His heart starts beating violently, his chest heaving as if bound by ropes. His mind starts spinning out of control, twisting everything around. He feels insane. Completely out of his mind. He wants to run.

His hand shakes as he turns the knob and hurriedly slips inside.

Once he's made it through the door he slowly tries to even out his breath, feeling somewhat safer like whatever's out there can't get to him. At least for now.

He glances around, taking in the small living space in front of him, there's a shabby looking LA-Z-Boy sitting in front of a TV that crackles with static. There's a phone on the side of the wall that's ringing non-stop. When he goes to answer it he finds no one on the other end. All the rest of the power seems cut off. It all feels like the setting of some cliche horror story.

Looking around, there really isn't much to see. It's a small square space, rustic with wood panels accommodating heavy oak furniture. It connects to a single small kitchen with two large glass windows that peer outside. It would probably be nice and homey if it weren't so dark and creepy.

It's strange, he doesn't remember this place, but he feels connected to it somehow.

Like he's been here before.

Memory alone guides his footsteps down a narrow hall with its wood paneled walls, towards the first bedroom he notices on his right.

There isn't another soul around, yet he finds himself tip-toeing apprehensive, like he might disturb some ancient curse if he isn't too careful.

The entire atmosphere hums with tension, and he's taken aback seeing a young girl facing an open window.

She's just standing there, peering outside for an indeterminable length of time. For a moment, her shape blocks the light from the moon shining outside. He can't see her face against the glare, only the flyaways around her head like a halo.

At first he's not sure why he finds himself so drawn by her. Something about her feels so foreign, yet so familiar.

" Who're you?" He asks, finally breaking the silence. She doesn't respond, not seeming to register his presence.

" _Hey_," He tries again, his voice much more loud and forceful this time, " I said who are you?"

The hairs on his arms raise when her eyes suddenly snap towards his. The young, wide-eyed girl stares directly at him, having a frightened sort of innocence about her.

Something flickers across his face like he's seen a ghost.

He recognizes her immediately.

" El?"

" It's not safe here for you," She says, no expression behind her gaze, not seeming to register his words.

She looks exactly like she did when he last saw her. This young innocent-looking kid, that same glassy-eyed faraway look in her eyes making her look too wise for her age. She still has that same tender heart-shaped face, her dark brown falling in soft curls caressing the nape of her neck. There was always something about her that seemed too soft, too pure for this world. She continues to stare at him unblinking, the silence stretching between them.

" What?" He blinks in confusion.

" It's got me. It won't let me leave. If you stay here too long it'll get you too." She steadily approaches him now, her gaze unmoving like she's trying to close in on him. He takes a step back, backing up against the wall. It's an unconscious movement on his part, feeling a bit ridiculous for being slightly scared of her. When he's alone with her he's reminded again how everything seems to revolve around her. She creates her own gravity.

His memories of Hawkins mostly come as a blur. The distortions of his life spiral around him like a nightmare kaleidoscope and she is the one still point of the maelstrom.

He distinctly remembers that night at Heather's house when the girl arrived with Max. He was transfixed, unable to stop staring at her, dripping wet from the storm outside. Her thin red raincoat barely shielding her from the downpour making her look like Red riding hood come to visit the big bad wolf.

The fog cleared over his mind for an instant, and it was like a switch had been flicked making him see just her.

She had been so young and so insanely perceptive back then when trying to connect with him. It touched a nerve. He didn't know why, but that glint in her eyes made something bitter well up in him. Resentful, resentful that she could just insert herself in his memories like it was some kind of arcade game and he was the high score she was after. Making him have to relive his past, entirely unaware just how damaged he was inside, while she was fucking metastasizing in him.

It was reckless. She had to know just how overwhelming she was.

He saw her. She was burning like the sun, surrounded by nothing but chaos and destruction doing nothing but using her mind to push back that giant shadow back into the void where it belonged.

Like a match struck in the dark. It made her face, her whole body seem to glow.

All he could do was stare back with stunted breath, both fascinated and terrified.

She suddenly stops in front of him, something in her demeanor shifts and her eyes turn dark and enormous against her pale face.

" I should've let you die that day." He stiffens, her words leaving their sting. He's often wondered that himself. Why she didn't just let him die after all the suffering he caused.

" Perhaps then you wouldn't be so broken. You wouldn't be anything. There's a sort of comfort in that, don't you think? You'd finally be free. Don't you want to be free, Billy? You know you can't keep going on like this."

He squints and grimaces, starting to get agitated by these little mind games again. He doesn’t want to seem afraid so he just gets angrier instead.

A small muscle twitches under his eye, " What the hell is this? Are you really her right now?"

" _I am her_." She says, in a low comically solemn voice, her eyes flash with something dark and sinister.

He frowns, thrown off trying to figure out just what the hell is going on here. Why El is standing in front of him. What this all means. It all feels supernatural, the fact that he's still connected with her after all this time.

" What the hell are you talking about?"

" _I've been inside her this whole time_. _She's a part of me, just as much as I'm a part of her_. _It's only a matter of time before she realizes how much she needs me._"

There's nothing he understands. About any of this. Why this thing wants El so bad. It’s creepy, this fixation it seems to have with her. He remembers vividly when he'd been taken over, when he wasn't himself. The rage burning in the pit of his stomach, like a fire he couldn't put out. He remembers wanting to hurt her. To steal the girl and drag her into the darkness.

" Just what is your deal with her anyway? Why are you so obsessed with her?"

El tilts her head. " _Why?"_ Her cold, disembodied voice answers, " _Why do you care?"_

" _Why should a person like you care about me_, _Billy_? _It's not like you had any room in your heart for anyone before. Just what is it that makes me so special_?"

" I don't.." He grits his teeth, slow to meet her gaze. It's hard to look at her right now.

" _I don't hate her_."

A moment passes and she moves too fast for him to anticipate, reaching out to cup either side of his face. A jolt runs up his spine feeling her pulsing warmth. She'd always been this young innocent thing, but her powers, this scary ability she had to get inside his head always made her seem tall, dominant and slightly intimidating.

Somehow she always manages to make him feel so small around her.

" _Do you think you're a good person, Billy_?" She asks, posing the question so innocently.

Billy bristles, but his voice comes out weak.

" No.."

" _Do you really think you'll be able to make up for everything?_ _People like you never change. You think just because I showed you a little kindness that you're suddenly a changed person? That you're deserving of love and acceptance?"_

She watches the change in his expression. His face falls in such a minuscule way, but she catches onto it while her eyes remain locked with his.

He feels rooted to the spot, unable to speak. It's like she takes up the entire room. Hearing the words come from her only makes it more brutal. He knows it isn't really her, but it all feels too real. The thing taking her form knows he's physically stronger than her, he's taller, bigger, but right now it can do whatever it wants with him. Because he isn't in control.

"_ It's funny you know?" _She mocks, " _I__n a way I can see why you were so drawn to me in the first place. You were a broken soul, just like me, confused, scared, angry, starving for love and acceptance. But.. I exploited that in you. You really think I care about someone like you? I could never care about you. I've seen your heart, Billy."_

" _You're broken_. " She states, like it's irrefutable. She holds his gaze with this predatory glint in her eyes, like she's looking beyond him.

Billy's reaction is automatic. His heart races and his body freezes like he suddenly can't move as she holds him in place. She's barely inches from his face, looking up at him. Yet it feels like she's towering over him.

" _You've repressed all your hurt. Shoved it down alongside everything causing you pain and took it out on the world. You hurt people, you hurt me, Max. Even your own mother didn't want you. The truth is you're not a good person, Billy. You've made choices, and you alone should suffer the consequences."_

" _Do you really think you can be forgiven?_"

He feels a vein throb painfully against his forehead.

" No! I don't! I'm already fucking well aware of that! Is that what you want to hear?! Congratulations you win!"

His heart thumps violently against his chest his whole body shaking with barely contained anger and squeezes her arms with too much aggression before letting go realizing what he's doing.

He hates it when she just smiles, trying to push him over the edge. It knows he won't hurt her.

Without warning her small hands come to wrap around his neck, squeezing only slightly and he suddenly goes limp. That same dark churning feeling in his gut causes him to feel trapped in his own skin. He is alone again, alone with that thing. The mind flayer is a master of manipulation. It doesn't just use fear, love or intimidation, but rather all at once. It knows his connection with El and twists it to its own advantage.

She smirks, or rather _it_ does. Her body is just a vessel here, that thing using her like a puppeteer with invisible strings.

"_ Oh, Billy,_" She probes, sneering," _I don't need to hear it from you. You already know it to be true. Have you forgotten? I've been inside you. I know you. Better than anyone_."

"_ If you aren't careful, I'm going to tear you apart._" Her voice is low and guttural when she speaks.

She surges forward just then, the ends of her fingertips suddenly becoming sharp, like claws digging into his skin. Like she means to split him open. He can feel his muscles going slack under her grip. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Everything melts into the darkness, along with her.

**

Billy opens his eyes with a gasp like someone had punched him in the stomach. He buries his face in his hands, sucking in air by the lungful, each breath is an effort, inhale, exhale, inhale again. His mind spins, the echo of her still haunting him.

_ Did that really just happen _?

He would've known seeing El again would stir up a whole host of emotions in him, but why was he suddenly seeing her now? It all felt creepy and bizarre, like some sign or omen foreshadowing some terrible event ahead. Whatever it means, he wants nothing to do with it. _ No _, he shakes his head, hating how selfish he makes himself sound. Of course he doesn't want El in any danger. After all she did for him there's no way he can ever repay her back. 

He owes her everything.

As his vision starts to adjust, he gradually makes out his surroundings.The pale blue light of dawn coming in through his rear view window. He can see the fog through the trees, the ghostly silhouette of a deer running off when he flashes his high beams.

The sight of it is spooky, making him feel like he’s still dreaming.

Like he never left.

Nausea and anger twist in his guts, his heart racing in the most unhelpful way making him feel sick to his stomach. He quickly rolls down the window when it suddenly feels like he can't breathe.

He hates himself for letting that thing get to him again. There's nothing he hates more than people walking all over him. Making him feel powerless, weak. It's why he's become the person he is today.

He doesn't let himself cry, even when he's alone. He just kinda goes quiet and lets the rain settle over him to help clear his mind. The sweat cools off his back unpleasantly and he heaves a sigh feeling himself come slowly back to his body.

He grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white when it hits him. As if struck by some sudden epiphany and the light-bulb flashes above his head.

  
  


He's broke, jobless but something in him is telling him to head West. His imagination drifts to a fantasy where the weather's warm and he can visit the beach every day. Where the breeze carries a cool mist from the ocean and he's able to take a deep breath and just be. He feels like his heart has always belonged in San Diego, like it's still there waiting for him to come back. 

Ever since he was a kid having grown up there, there wasn't any other place he imagined himself. He had a good life there with his mom. They did everything together and looking back he guesses that's how he always thought it would be. Until things got too much at home with his dad and she just couldn't take it anymore. A part of him doesn't blame her. The other part of him resents her for leaving him behind. For all the suffering he had to endure when she wasn't around to protect him.

Mostly he just hurts.

Still, that doesn't deter him from going back where it all began. He needs to break the cycle. Find a new place to start.

Right now he thinks he has some sense of what he wants to do. Where he wants to be.

It's a first for him.


End file.
